Prime and Prejudice
by LordAwesome
Summary: A newcomer arouses the suspicions of all the Autobots, except Optimus Prime who is all too busy preparing to marry his longtime girlfriend.  Will Prime's good faith spell doom?  Will wedding bells ring?
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Transformers™.

**Chapter One**

Elita-One held the bathing suit up to her cold, metal exterior. "Mmm," she uttered, nodding her head in approval at her reflection in a full-length mirror. The modest suit's spring yellow color went well with her pink and white complexion.

Satisfied, she tossed the garment over her shoulder and onto the floor of her hotel room. Instantly, her roommate Moonracer rushed to retrieve the fallen swimsuit. "Oh, Elita!" she clucked. "It'll get wrinkled!"

Elita-One waved her hand in dismissal at the seaweed green Transformer. "Hush, child. It's no matter."

Moonracer bit her lip and held the yellow fabric to her breast. "Whatever you say," she mumbled as she reclined onto one of the room's two energizing beds.

Elita-One did not give much thought to her wardrobe for the annual Miss Autobot Beauty Pageant. She had won the pageant _every_ year for the past _five_ million years, and she was certain that another win was in the bag. After all, her longtime boyfriend – Optimus Prime – was the sole judge. _And_ it would be her last year to compete. Ah, in just two weeks, she would no longer be a Miss but a _Missis_. Mrs. Prime, that is!

Admittedly, Elita-One would miss the pageant's bright lights, flashy costumes, and the elaborate musical numbers. But she would gladly give up this trivial glamour for the love of her life, Optimus Prime.

Out of nowhere, Moonracer sighed, "You're so lucky, Elita."

Elita rolled her bright blue eyes and growled impatiently, "What are you going on about now?"

"I said that you're lucky. That's all."

"I got that. But _why_ am I lucky?"

Moonracer giggled. "Sometimes you can be so clueless."

"Look who's talking."

"_Hey!"_ Moonracer sat upright in bed and glared at her playfully. "Elita, you're… You're… You're just lucky. I don't know how else to phrase it. You're the reigning beauty queen, _and_ you're getting married to the most eligible robotic bachelor in the galaxy."

"Did you know that it will be the first Transformer marriage?" asked Elita, raising her head proudly.

Moonracer clapped her hands in excitement. "Oh, you'll be making history!"

"Indeed, I will. And you can bet that there will be many more changes when I am queen."

"But you've _been_ Miss Autobot for five million years. I mean, you have glamorized the pageant over the years, but there haven't been that many changes…"

"Shush! I meant when I am Queen of the Autobots!"

Confused, Moonracer scratched her head. "Autobots don't have a queen, or a king, for that matter."

Elita raised her arms in frustration. "Can't you see that monarchy is the answer?"

"The answer to what?"

"We've been living in a galaxy of instability for far too long. It's time that our people depend on something," she explained. "And that something will be the Autobots' golden couple, King Optimus and Queen Elita."

Moonracer smiled weakly but said nothing. She wondered if Optimus Prime was aware that his fiancée was delusional.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Transformers™.

**Chapter Two**

"Monsieur Prime, Monsieur Prime! _Vhere_ are you going? _Ve_ are not _fee-nished_ _vith zee_ _vedding _plans!"

"Curses!" muttered Optimus Prime, curling his navy hand into a fist. He had been so close to freedom, a mere two feet away from Moonbase One's escape pod. But Marcellular, the wedding planner whom his fiancée had hired, had caught him.

Marcellular wasn't menacing in appearance; he had a long, thin face with black, beady eyes and a painted-on, brown goatee. However, at this point, Optimus found himself frightened by the lanky, pale blue Transformer who had a flair for decorating. "I _gahzer _that you are unhappy _vith_ my _vurk_," he spat, tapping his left foot angrily. "_Vell_, if _zat_ is _zee_ case, I am through, Monsieur Prime! Through!"

Optimus cleared his throat and tried to reason with the fuming Transformer. "Marcellular, please," he began.

Marcellular raised his hand in protest. "I _vill _not hear _ahnazur_ _vurd_."

"Mar-."

"Ah! I am through, Monsieur Prime! You _vill_ simply have to find yourself a new _vedding_ planner," he huffed, shrugging his shoulders. "Good _day_, Monsieur Prime." He tipped an imaginary hat and went on his way.

At first, Optimus was delighted to see Marcellular leave. The wedding planner was a nuisance, demanding that Optimus make _thoughtful_ decisions about table decorations, seating charts, the bridesmaids' gowns, and so on. Optimus did not have time for this nonsense. He was the leader of the Autobots, for crying out loud! His main concern was dealing with the Decepticons, not hoity-toity wedding planners!

But… On the other hand, if he _didn't_ deal with the hoity-toity wedding planner, the one who hailed from the European district of the galaxy, the one that Elita had _specifically_ requested… Well… When it would become time to explain Marcellular's absence, he'd be Sharkticon bait. Optimus Prime had been dead before, and he didn't want to experience that again.

"Oh, Primus…" he grumbled, knowing what he had to do. "Wait, Marcellular, wait!"

Marcellular whirled around on his tiptoes to face Optimus Prime. "Eh, _oui_?" he replied.

Optimus could hear the curiosity and sick pleasure in the wedding planner's voice. "I'm sorry that I upset you. Your visions…" Here, Optimus sighed. "Your visions are extraordinary. My fiancée and I are privileged to have you as our wedding planner."

"Hmm, you mean you _vere_ privileged to have me as your _vedding_ planner. Past tense."

"Please, please, come back, Marcellular. We need you."

"Very _vell_. I _vill_ _vurk_ on your _vedding_ again."

Gosh, that accent was annoying. Was it French, German, Transylvanian? Whatever it was, Optimus was dejected knowing that he would hear it again and again and again, until his "vedding" in two weeks. Perhaps he should just marry Elita-One in Vegas. He heard that humans did it all the time, including that Spears woman. He liked her.

But Elita-One was the one for him, or at least, that's what everybody told him. There was a time, a time on Cybertron, when Optimus _knew_ that he loved Elita-One and she loved him. These days, he wasn't too sure. Elita had been unreceptive since he proposed marriage to her. Instead, she spoke _to_ him about _her_ concerns, mainly concerns about the wedding and her "perks" as the new Mrs. Prime. He wondered if this was a real problem or just cold feet. He better find out soon.

"Shall _ve_, Monsieur Prime?"

Optimus awoke from his reverie and accompanied Marcellular to the designated planning room.

"Back to _zee_ drawing board. _Vwat_ do you _see-nk_: roses, daffodils, or daisies for your _vife's_ bouquet?"

Optimus didn't have the slightest idea, but he did know that imported flowers from Earth were going to be _slagging_ expensive.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Transformers™.

"Ahem," coughed a short figure leaning in the doorway.

"Arraaagh! Who dares to interrupt my _vurk_!?" exploded Marcellular, throwing dozens of 8" x 10" color, glossy photographs of flowers into the air, stamping on them as they landed on the tiled floor. He and Optimus Prime had been discussing the matter of the bride's bouquet for _an hour and a half, _and Optimus' disinterest had begun to take a serious toll on the wedding planner's sanity.

"Bumblebee, what brings you here?" Optimus Prime inquired nonchalantly, as his wedding planner stomped around the room like Grimlock on steroids. There was a hint of delight in Optimus' voice. At last, he could escape the wrath of Marcellular!

"Sir," began Bumblebee, looking directly into his leader's eyes. "We have a guest."

"Friend or foe?"

"Friend, I think."

"Well, bring him in," ordered Optimus. "I'll see him in the parlor."

"It's… It's a _her_," Bumblebee corrected.

Optimus froze. "But… But Elita's not due here for another week. The beauty contest is under-."

Marcellular interrupted, "Must I spell _everyzing_ out for you nincompoops?" He sighed heavily. "Your 'guest' is my sister who has come to help me with…" He raised his lip in disgust and gestured toward Optimus Prime. "…with _zis _buffoon's wedding."

Bumblebee's mouth dropped; he had not heard any Autobot speak so irreverently to Optimus Prime. Surprisingly, Optimus swallowed the insult and marched out the door without so much a grunt or a glance for the enraged wedding planner.

Bumblebee accompanied his leader, but not before he added his two-cents. "By the way, Marcellular, is it? I think an arrangement of tulips would do the trick. You know, pink, red, yellow… Yellow brings out the best in Elita." He grinned widely. "Catch ya later!"

Alone, Marcellular stroked his painted beard. "_Zee_ chubby yellow one has a point."

Meanwhile, Optimus Prime and Bumblebee strode toward the landing dock, each hoping that this mysterious guest did not harbor her brother's impatience and nasty temper. "She seems nice," Bumblebee commented, breaking their silence. "Just to let you know."

Optimus did not want to discuss his impending doom, even with his good friend Bumblebee. He was having enough trouble with one decorator. Could he handle another? More specifically, could he handle _another_ one with the _same_ robotic makeup? "Marcellular _seemed_ nice when Elita introduced me to him. He _seemed_ like a real professional: knowledgeable, cool, collected. But he turned out to be a real…"

Bumblebee jabbed Optimus in his abdomen to prevent him from finishing his rude sentence. They had reached the landing dock, not to mention their guest.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Transformers™.

Optimus Prime froze at the sight of her. She was a vision in white, a bright white, a color that stirred up memories of still winters on the planet Earth…

Bumblebee recoiled at the sight of her. She was a vision in an oversized, poofy, white fur coat and a matching pillbox hat, an outfit that stirred up memories of the polar bears that repeatedly attacked the Autobots' Polar Compound on the planet Earth… Bumblebee turned to Optimus Prime, expecting to see a similar look of horror on his face. Instead, he caught Optimus Prime making goo-goo eyes at their ridiculously-dressed guest.

She wasn't bad-looking, just peculiar-looking. She had a frosty blue exterior; spindly legs; twig-like arms; a long, thin face; and black eyes. Come to think of it, if she washed off her painted eyelashes and painted a beard on her chin, she could have fooled anyone into thinking that she was Marcellular. Maybe they were twins?

With Optimus Prime temporarily "out of commission," Bumblebee assumed the duty of welcoming the guest, who was seated on a metal bench beside the door. He cleared his throat and began, "Welcome to Moonbase-One. My name is Bumble-."

"Charmed, I'm sure," the guest interrupted. She arose from her seat in a swooping motion and strolled toward Optimus Prime, her hands clasped behind her back. "You must be Optimus Prime," she declared with a sneaky smile. "I must say that it is a pleasure to meet you at last. My _dear_ brother has told me so much about you and your wedding plans; and, of course, you've been the talk of the town, or should I say _galaxy_, ever since you proposed to Elita-One just six months ago. She's a darling girl who's very lucky to have you. I do believe that she wi-."

"I'm sorry. I didn't catch your name," Optimus cut in.

Embarrassed, she cupped her face in her hands. "Oh, how rude of me, chattering on and on without a proper introduction! I am Antoinetwork, and if you will let me, I would be honored to be your wedding photographer."

Optimus Prime leaned forward in interest. "Oh, you transform into a camera?"

"No…" she trailed. "Just a phone."

"But I thought that Marcellular already transformed into a phone…"

"Well, yeah, but I am a _camera_ phone."

"I see," said Optimus.

"Is my sister belittling me again?" asked Marcellular, rushing into the room. "Oh, _ma petite chou_!" he cried as he took Antoinetwork into his arms and hugged her tightly.

Antoinetwork squiggled out of his hold. "Why, brother! It's so good to see you. It's been so long."

"_Vait_ a minute," said Marcellular, stroking his painted beard. "_Vhere_ is your accent?"


End file.
